


When the Night Comes - Dorian (Fan Hunter)

by Fawnsummer



Category: When The Night Comes (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, M/M, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Mythical Beings & Creatures, NSFW, Romance, Supernatural Elements, Witch - Freeform, when the night comes, when the night comes game, wtnc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 19:36:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16181777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fawnsummer/pseuds/Fawnsummer
Summary: When the Night Comes is a supernatural otome game due for release in October 2018https://whenthenightcomesgame.tumblr.com/August belongs to the WTNC devs, and Dorian belongs to meIf a chapter is NSFW I'll put it in the title





	1. I Thought You Didn't Love Me Back

Dorian stomped into his room a lot later than usual. It had been a long day of waiting in shadows, slaughtering monsters then running like hell through the streets of Lunaris, over and over again. He touched a hand to his trouser leg only for it to come back brown and sticky; the blood of some godsforsaken creature he'd managed to get close enough to kill. He was covered in it. He sighed as he wiped his hand on a rag, rolling his neck and shoulders as he went. He had serious tall boy problems when it comes to having to crouch for hours at a time, his shoulders especially were in a perpetual state of agony.

It wasn't just the constant hunting and accompanied physical pain that had made today a particularly rough one. Dorian was fairly certain he'd had his heart ripped out of his chest too, and not by a monster either, but the most gorgeous and unattainable witch he'd ever laid eyes on.

He couldn't shift the memory of August from his mind. The sharp planes of their face, their icey gaze and the look they gave when they told him “don't get your hopes up boy.”

A look of utter defiance.

Dorian sighed as he lit a cigarette.

Don't get your hopes up.

He snickered as he took a drag. He wasn't giving up on this one, at least, not yet.

He was shaken out of his pondering by incessant banging on the door.

“The fuck…” he muttered, striding to it.

“Who is it?” he gritted out, the cigarette between his teeth.

“Just open the door.”

Dorian stepped back to let the visitor in. August stormed across the threshold in a swirl of purple silk and lavender.

“You couldn't get dressed?” Dorian remarked. August was wearing nothing but a flimsy robe. 

“And you couldn't be bothered to bathe?” August retorted.

“I only just got in.”

“Why? We finished up hours ago.”

“I went for a walk.”

“Pffftttt…”

Dorian studied them through the haze of smoke. Maybe his heart hadn't been ripped out earlier; he could feel it clearly thundering in his chest. 

“What do you want August? I'm very tired and would like to go to bed….”

“I'm sorry.”

Dorian sighed, stubbing the cigarette out in the tray on the desk, right next to the reports he still needed to finish tonight.

“Fucks sake” he muttered, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“I mean it” August said, stepping closer to Dorian where he stood, leaning over the desk.

“When I said what I said, it's because I thought…”

“I know what you thought August” Dorian snarled, his lethargy getting the better of him.

“Sorry. You don't have to explain, it's fine.”

“Would you let me finish!” 

It was August’s turn to snap. They grasped Dorian’s wrist, elegant fingers wrapped tightly around it. Dorian looked down at them, theirs eyes were wide and…. vulnerable. The one and only time he'd seen that in them was the first time they'd made love.

Dorian’s heart was now lodged deeply in his throat.

“When I said what I said, it's because I thought you didn't love me back.”

“What? Why?!” Dorian croaked out. “ What do you mean? I’ve never…”

“I'm saying I love you, you stupid brute!” 

August let go of Dorian and shoved him away. A deep blush dusted over their chest where the robe has slipped open.

Love.

Dorian moved to stand behind August, their sweet scent filling his nostrils.

“Say it again” he murmured, close enough for August to feel his breath on their neck.

“Not until after you've bathed” August huffed, as defiant as ever.

Dorian laughed, he knew he would do whatever the witch wanted of him, he'd skin himself if he had to.

“I love you” Dorian said into their shoulder, the heat of their skin so soft beneath his lips.

“Bathroom, now” August growled, grabbing Dorian by the shirt collar and leading the way.


	2. Get Out

Dorian sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing his leg up and down on the ball of his foot. He was becoming increasingly more impatient as he waited for August to finish their reports.

August sighed heavily as they placed a finished report on the top of the pile before starting on another.

“Nearly finished?” Dorian asked, stretching out his long body on the bed. August glanced over their shoulder at him, then turned more fully.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“What?” Dorian asked innocently. He turned on his side to face them, a hand propped under his head, inky hair falling into forest green eyes.

August looked from the unkempt hair, to the open shirt, to the dirty boots that were dangerously close to touching the fine quilt.

“If those boots touch the bed, you’re dead Ognjen.”

Dorian smirked at the use of his surname. Being in trouble with August was his favourite thing. And he was getting dangerously close.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He smirked, tilting his head blamelessly. The tip of his boot hovered dramatically over the quilt.

Dorian’s absurdly long limbs arranged in such an awkward angle made him look somewhat like a daddy long-legs. August turned back to the reports, hiding the smile that played on their lips.

Silence reigned for a few minutes before the bed creaked with shifting weight.

“Can you not just sit still? I’m nearly done.” August rubbed a hand over their face in annoyance.

They felt Dorian’s presence behind them. “I’m serious Dorian, I’m not above making you leave!”

Dorian abruptly sat on the desk right on top of the pile of reports.

“So tell me to leave, August.” He’d taken his shirt and boots off.

August swallowed audibly at the sight of his unannounced, naked flesh. Dorian’s marble skin glowed in the candlelight; all lithe, sinewy muscle. Scars littered his chest and shoulders, and a large, mottled burn engulfed his entire left shoulder.

Dorian had a boyish look about him, as though he was on the cusp of manhood. Except, he was well and truly a man; an experienced one at that, as August knew too well.

Dorian leaned back on the desk, an arm stretched behind him.

“Tell me to leave, August.” A slow grin emerged on his handsome face.

August closed their eyes and sighed, yanking a report out from beneath him.

Dorian chuckled, before falling to his knees on the hardwood floor beside them.

August gasped as Dorian’s calloused hand pressed firmly onto their thigh. August sat back in the chair, giving him the opportunity to move right in front of them. 

Dorian rested both hands on the waistband of their trousers. “Shall I leave now?” He asked throatily, his fingers tugging at the strings holding the trousers up. August watched him expressionless, even lifting their buttocks, allowing Dorian to remove them altogether.

“What about now?” Dorian’s voice was muffled as he pressed his lips to their warm skin.

August’s eyelids fluttered closed. They swore they hated this man. This abhorrent manchild who doesn't bathe nearly enough for their liking. Who always seems to have a cigarette hanging between his lips. 

They could never come to love this man, with his sharp wit, rousing intellect, and basic disregard for his own safety.

Not to mention the stupid, stupid jokes. And the way he makes them feel with a look, or a touch and that tongue; which he was using right now in the most idiotically sinful way imaginable.

August wondered how much longer they could lie to themselves about how not in love they are with him.

“Get out…” they said halfheartedly, feeling Dorian smile against them.


	3. I Missed You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt - I-I just wanted to say that I uh, I missed you.

Dorian paced the dark hallway, running his fingers beneath the collar of his too-tight shirt - a present from August. His skin felt sensitive beneath the soft linen. He’d scrubbed it raw tonight, and soaked himself in one of Entela’s oils that she assured wouldn’t take away his “raw, masculine” scent. He’d snorted at her quip, but it kind of stung. He knows he can be a bit forgetful when it comes to taking care of himself, and he did wonder why August was willing to get so close to him. Did they ever find him to be as repulsive as he sometimes found himself?

August.

They hadn’t seen each other in weeks. August was sent out on an assignment in another region for what felt like years to Dorian. He had really missed them. Missed their stubborny, bratty, beautiful ass to the point of waiting for them to return, like a pining maiden. It was so, so unlike him.  
This is stupid Dorian thought, leaning his back against the wall. 

'I should come back later, let August get settled.'

He turned towards the staircase to find someone standing there.

“Did you wait up for me?”

Dorian couldn’t help the smile that spread across his lips. “Maybe,” he replied, turning towards the familiar voice.

August’s heeled boots clicked against the hardwood floor as they emerged from the gloom. They looked exhausted, their usually shining hair lay limp against their filthy shirt.

“What if I didn’t get back til morning?” August asked, as they placed their bag on the floor by the door to their room.

Dorian prowled towards August, crowding them in the doorway. “Then you’d find me dead on my feet.” He placed a hand on either side of August’s head.

“You’re wearing the shirt.”

“I am.”

“And you smell like sandalwood.”

Dorian sighed, leaning down to brush his nose against their jawline. He couldn’t work it out. All these years he’d spent building up walls, only for fissures to appear with every look, and touch, and feel of them. Slowly, breaking apart the things he believed in - that he couldn’t let himself love, or be loved by anyone.

“Fucking hell August!” Dorian growled into their skin.

August shuddered against the door, the wood creaking against the pressure.

“What are you doing to me?” Green eyes burned into blue. There was no space between the press of their bodies.

“Why are you here?” August whispered, their eyelashes fluttered against his cheek.

Dorian struggled to get the words out, they caught like fish hooks in the back of his throat. “I-I just wanted to say that I uh, I missed you.”

August nodded, their hands slowly pulling Dorian’s shirt out of his trousers. “Are you going to fuck me out in the hallway then?”

“Do you want me to?”

August reached behind themselves, and with a flick of the wrist, the door unlocked.

“Get inside Ognjen.”


	4. Sing to Me (NSFW)

Giving the door a shove with his shoulder, Dorian let himself into August's room. They'd said they'd be home by now, but there didn't seem to be any sign of them. Their coat was draped over the back of a chair, reports stacked beneath a paperweight on the desk flapped gently below the window - left open to let in the warm, afternoon breeze. Dorian headed over to it, a cigarette pressed between his lips. As he struck a match to light it he paused. Someone was singing. He leaned out the window, assuming it was someone down on the street, but the alley below was empty. 

'The walls are pretty thin so it could be a neighbour,' he thought as he strolled around the room. He stopped in front of the bathroom door and listened. Through the wooden panels he could just make out the sound of water splashing and sure enough, August's gentle cadence. Tossing the unlit cigarette aside, Dorian carefully opened the door to be greeted by a thick veil of steam, heavy with lavender and sage. 

“Shit, Dorian!” August pulled their knees up to their chin, water sloshing over the sides of the bathtub. “You startled me.”

With a mischievous smirk, Dorian knelt by the bathtub. “Enjoying yourself? I think the whole building can hear you.”

August flushed, steam beading on their brow as they straightened out under water.  
“You're early.”

“I'm right on time.” Dorian rolled up a sleeve, lowering his hand so his fingertips touched the water, making it ripple.

August stiffened. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Dorian fingers sank deeper, lightly touching August's abdomen, the muscles clenching in response. They watched his fingers dance lightly over soft skin. Lower and lower…

“Dorian!”

“Relax August.” His fingers swept over their hip, teasing the sensitive skin of their inner thigh before curving around their length. They were already hard. 

“What were you thinking about before I came in?” Dorian asked, his voice gravelly with desire.

“Not too fast…” They made to move but Dorian pushed them back into the water.

“You feel so good.” Dorian stroked them languidly, finding an even rhythm as the water whirled around his arm.

“Dorian…” August's hand clamped his shoulder. He could tell they were getting close. Without disrupting his hand’s eager movements, he shifted forward over the bath, his other hand reaching up to cup August's jaw, slipping down to rest on their chest.

“Sing to me.” Dorian uttered. 

August pushed into his hand, their back arching as they came, water spilling over onto Dorian's lap.

His hand lingered between their thighs, relishing in the feel of them, muscles tensing with aftershocks.

When August's rapid breaths returned to normal, they sat up and kissed Dorian, dragging him against their soaked skin,and lips warm from the heat of the water.

“Haven't you ever heard of knocking?”


	5. You're Mine, I Don't Share

August swirled the red wine in the glass before taking a sip. They watched Dorian where he perched by the open window, blowing cigarette smoke out into the night air. One of his suspenders had fallen off his shoulder, and his grubby shirt was half un-tucked out of too-short trousers. He bounced a knee rhythmically and August marvelled at how his impossibly long legs managed to reach the floor at all. Dorian exhaled slowly and deliberately, watching the smoke carry on the breeze and away from August’s cosy room.

“Throw that away and come here.”

Dorian turned his head to where August lay on the couch, their silk draped knees tucked up to their chest.

How could anyone look so effortlessly beautiful? Dorian wondered as he took one final pull on the cigarette, before putting the end out with wet fingers and tossing the butt into the empty tumbler on the sill. With his usual lanky attempt at a swagger, he moved towards August, flopping onto the couch cushions.

Dorian knew why he was here, and he had mentally prepared himself for the inevitable let down.

They had been enjoying each other for a while now. A chaste kiss here and a tumble there, and more flirting than was probably necessary on his part. Dorian had surprised himself by having feelings, extraordinarily intense feelings for the silken haired enforcer. He’d surprised himself further, by asking August if they would be his, officially. August had gone stony faced, telling him “I’ll think about it.”

As far as Dorian could tell, he’d fucked it up on a colossal scale.

He was an idiot to think someone as unattainable as August would want anyone specifically, but especially him - the big, clumsy, gross idiot with a death wish and a dire sense of self worth.

That was two weeks ago, and Dorian of course, suspected the worse and knew that August was just doing him the courtesy of inviting him for a last drink before breaking his heart to his face.

“So.” August set the empty wine glass aside. “About that thing you asked.”

“Look, you don’t have to say it. I’d really rather you…”

“Stop doing that!”

“What?”

“Interrupting me.”

Dorian flinched, sinking further into the couch cushions. “I can’t help it. When you’ve got four sisters it’s a fight to be heard.”

August looked at Dorian, he could feel their eyes examining him like one of their reports.

“I have a condition.” they said, sternly.

“Which is?”

“No more putting yourself down.”

“I never…”

“Make that two conditions, because we better add ‘no interrupting’.”

Dorian snorted, leaning forward to balance his elbows on bony knees.

“Does that mean you agree?” he asked. He couldn’t look at them. Couldn’t show his too-eager face.

August sighed, letting seconds drip by before shuffling along the couch to sit close to him.

“Yes.” they said simply.

Dorian was at a loss as to what to do next. Should he kiss them or see himself out? The unpredictability and sheer brattiness of August was half the reason he was falling for them, but he still didn’t know what to expect.

“Dorian?”

“Mmmmm?”

“Now you’ve got me, what do you plan to do with me?”

Dorian sighed. His previous misgivings and anxieties falling away like ecdysis.

“I don’t know yet.” He ran a slender finger along August’s hairline, pushing a tendril away from their face. “I didn’t expect you to say yes.”

He leaned in to kiss them, tenderly at first and them purposefully. His hands tangling in lilac tresses.

August broke away suddenly. “There’s something else you should know.”

“Yes?

August rested their forehead against his. “You’re mine, I don’t share!”


	6. Is it weird that it was a total turn on?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August belongs to the When The Night Comes Game dev, and Dorian belongs to me.

Dorian stopped outside the door when he heard August’s voice. With his hands tucked casually in his pockets, he leaned against the doorframe, straining to hear through the wooden panel. 

He couldn’t make out actual words, but he knew by the tone, and timbre that August was giving someone a severe dressing down. He considered walking back downstairs but curiosity compelled him to stay, to see who would walk out the door after the tongue lashing of their lives. August was one enforcer you do not trifle with, not even Dorian who may or may not, purposely put himself in situations that would require a reprimand from his lover afterwards.

The room beyond eventually grew silent, the door creaking open as a hunter emerged. They didn’t see Dorian as they shuffled past with their head bowed. “Fuck fuck fuck…” they hissed as they headed downstairs. Smiling smugly, Dorian pushed the door with his boot before it closed. Stepping inside, Dorian found August angrily pouring a glass of red wine that sloshed over the sides.

“I suppose you heard all that” they said, not looking up from the task at hand.

“Indeed.” Dorian pushed the door closed, before resting his back against it.

August sighed. Corking the bottle before taking a long drink. “You know it’s rude to eavesdrop.”

“Is it weird that it was a total turn on?”

“What was?”

“You.” Dorian pushed off the door, and ambled over to August. “Ripping that hunter a new one.”

August snorted, placing the wine glass on the vestibule. “You’re a strange boy with perverse kinks Ognjen.” They said, placing a slender hand at the opening of his shirt.

“Pfffttt, I think most of the hunters break the rules on purpose.”

“You included?”

“I don’t have to be naughty to get you to dress me down… Gus.” He winked.

August pursed their lips at the innuendo, and shortening of their name which Dorian knew they hated. August tried and failed to suppress the smile that threatened to diminish their tough, not-to-be-messed-with reputation. But then, Dorian had already seen beneath their exterior, plenty of times.


	7. I thought I lost you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August belongs to the When The Night Comes Game devs, and Dorian belongs to me.

“I thought I lost you” hugs with Dor and August?

Dorian wouldn’t be surprised if he really was dead this time. 

With so many near misses and the scars to prove it, he constantly felt death’s presence like a curse, waiting for the next slip up. Except, he didn’t think it would happen this way. Dying by Stanis Ognjen’s hand was how it was meant to go, with the slip of the dagger too close to the jugular, or falling from a wayward steed saddled by his father’s malicious hand. He wasn’t supposed to die from something as simple as a demon wound.

He’d had demon wounds before. The fever, delirium and the necessary, self-induced coma until the effects wear off. This one was different, he could feel himself slipping away. The hard ground beneath felt like nails. Clammy skin, clothes too tight, breaths coming in short.

Am I dreaming?

He was having visions or nightmares, he couldn’t tell. He was standing on the hill overlooking home, holding Entela’s hand on the day she started hunter training. He was looking into his mother’s eyes; the exact same green as his own. He relived the awkwardness of his first kiss, the agony of unrequited love, the smell of burning flesh, his hands covered in flash powder, a blade held to his throat…

And someone saying his name over and over…

Dorian. Dorian. Dorian.

He came to in a rush of prickly heat and white noise. He gulped the air like it was disappearing and a face materialised in the fog of near death.

“I thought I lost you.” 

Barely a whisper close to his throat, eyelashes fluttering against his jaw. When August sat up, their stupefied expression brought Dorian to tears. He’d hurt them again with his stupidity. He saw it in their eyes and their shaking hands clutching at his bloody shirt. He saw everything he meant to them, and what his death might have cost.

“I’m sorry, I keep...I’m so sorry…” he croaked out, eyes blurring as he reached for them.

“Don’t talk Ognjen.” 

Dorian turned his face into the palm of their hand, the shape and feel so familiar and comforting. 

“I wonder if you’ll ever be able to stay out of trouble.”

He wanted to tell them everything; about the burning and the dreams and that he’s certain his father will come for him one day, and how that knowledge keeps him from his bed. He knew that’s why he’s trouble, why he’s so privy to danger and destruction. But now he wants to live, if only to hear August tell him what a stupid, handsome idiot he is again.

“I’ll try for you.”

He felt August laugh against him, breathing new life into him, a new purpose. He didn’t know he could have this, and so he vowed to stay alive for them.


	8. Would you leave me if I told you what I've done?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is inspired by No Light, No Light by Florence + the Machine
> 
> And I'd do anything to, to make you stay  
> No light, no light  
> (No light)  
> Tell me what you want me to say  
> But would you leave me  
> If I told you what I've done  
> And would you leave me  
> If I told you what I've become  
> 'Cause it's so easy  
> To say it to a crowd  
> But it's so hard, my love  
> To say it to you out loud

He'd never belonged anywhere or with anyone, yet some how...

They wanted him.

"What is it?" August clasped his hand in their own.

Dorian blinked at them, disbelieving. He'd never wanted to protect anything so much im his life, and the weight of it bubbled up in his chest, making his jaw ache and his eyes blur.

"Tell me Dorian, tell me everything."

He reached for a tendril of their hair; so soft between his calloused fingers. They were perfect. Unblemished, unmarred, unharmed. But if anybody hurt them, Dorian wouldn't be afraid to kill.

Killing was easy. It was everything else that was difficult. Revealing himself and succumbing to the things he felt. Would he have to be truthful? Be honest about the beast he thought he was?

"Would you leave me if I told you what I'd done?"

August kissed him in answer, soft and sure against his lips.


	9. You're such a tease (semi-NSFW)

“Can I open my present now?” August sat up in bed, the lilac blanket pooling around their narrow waist.  
“I’ll get it!” Dorian leaned over them to grab the outrageously expensive bottle of wine on the nightstand. “Have you tried it before?”  
August shook their head thoughtfully, their cheeks still faintly pink from an afternoon spent familiarising themselves with each other after weeks apart.  
“Where did you get it again?”  
“Some old crone was selling them on the outskirts of Aclea. She said it was made from the blood of a vampire sacrificed on Revelation Day.”  
August narrowed their eyes at him, “that’s ridiculous, even for you.”  
“It says right here” Dorian held the dusty and completely illegible label closer to August “Aclea. Revelation Day.”  
“Stop it!”  
Dorian laughed, swinging his legs out of the bed to collect a glass for the wine. He felt August’s eyes on him like a brand as he walked across the room. Dorian wasn’t one for being shy about his body or nakedness, but August’s gaze had the ability to make him feel both miraculous and small all at once. Very difficult to fathom for someone who has a terrible view of himself and whose 6’6 frame is pretty hard to miss.  
Dorian decided to focus on the miraculous and sauntered back to the bed with as much provocation as he could muster, earning him an inelegant snort from August.  
“Do you want your present or not?” Dorian huffed, slamming the point of his dagger into the cork as he gripped the bottle of wine between his knees.  
August lay back against the pillows as they watched Dorian’s back muscles flex beneath his pale skin as he battled with the cork. Their fingers had traced the plethora of scars there not long before but they always felt new beneath their fingertips; new and unexplored. Dorian some how, made everything feel new.  
“There’s no one quite like you is there, Ognjen?”  
“I’m one of a kind, darling, and very limited, so get it…” The cork gave way with a glorious pop. “While you can.” Dorian finished.   
He poured the ruby red wine into the glass without spilling a drop, before setting the opened bottle back on the nightstand. He twisted to face August, swirling the wine around the glass as he leaned forward to offer them a taste, but at the last second he veered the glass around to his own lips and took a long drink. Dorian swallowed the wine, smacking his lips with satisfaction.   
“It’s actually quite nice, for vampire blood.”  
“You are such a tease, Ognjen.”  
He took another drink, this time setting the glass down on the nightstand and hovering over August.  
“Don’t you dare…”  
Dorian brought his mouth down to August’s, gently tipping their head back to allow some of the wine to trickle in before kissing their soft lips reverently. Some of the wine escaped, flowing in thin lines down August’s neck and chest. Dorian traced them with his tongue, his pine green eyes gazing up through dark lashes at his steadily breathless love.


	10. A pillar I am of pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the writing prompt - Honey, I laugh when it sinks in. A pillar I am, of pride (from Dinner & Diatribes by Hozier)

Dorian licks his dry lips and waits. 

“Don't move.” A voice says from across the room, the authority in it straightens his back against the hardwood. 

The anticipation is something else, although nothing new. He should probably tell them he's played this game before, many times. Let them believe it's kind of him to let them take the reins, when secretly, it's all he ever wanted. 

He doesn't remember when he became the dominant one. At least, he tells himself he doesn't. Yet the painful recollections remain; a myriad of images he continuously pushes down. 

Dark hair brushing collar bones, smudged lipstick and soft hands with sharp claws. 

It was a long time ago, but not nearly long enough to forget. 

“Have you fallen asleep?”

The voice is closer, mere feet away. Always familiar and warm, even when spilling acidic words.

“Course not” he replies, white knuckles clamping down on the edges of his seat. “I'm too excited for sleep.”

A snort breaks the darkness a little, making it impossible to pretend they're a stranger. “Why am I not surprised.” 

Dorian smiles, his pine green eyes fluttering closed as long fingers find their way into his hair. The scent of lavender surrounds him, heady and habitual. He relaxes too soon, for they move from his head to grip his chin tightly, commandingly. Without thinking, Dorian closes his own hand over theirs. The effect is immediate. 

The prey lets themselves be captured in the same way the hunter can't let himself be. 

The suspense vibrates through them, and Dorian can feel every pulse of it.  
“August.” He says, his voice strong and strange in his ears. He doesn't have to pull hard to close the gulf between them.


End file.
